


The thrill

by saltandlimes



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Blood, Hux is Not Nice, Jedi Ben Solo, M/M, Resistance AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-12
Updated: 2016-06-12
Packaged: 2018-07-14 13:33:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7173878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandlimes/pseuds/saltandlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>General Bren Hux of the Resistance has always hidden some of his more... unsavory... interests. Hidden them, that is, until he meets Ben Solo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The thrill

**Author's Note:**

> Drabble for a prompt on tumblr!
>
>> kylux where Hux was raised with the Resistance and grew up to a be a General for their side but is still his usual...uh...lovely, charming, sweet self.
> 
> At first I was totally unsure where to go with this, and I'm not sure I really got it right, but thanks for the ideas, anon! 

He's always had to hide it.

He's sat in his room, pouring over filched holo recordings – relics from the Empire, from interrogations, from seedy planets that the Resistance sends him to in their crusade to out-recruit and out-smart the First Order. 

Because a general in the Resistance, even-tempered and commanding, cannot be seen to think about this, to ache and burn at horrors two decades dead.

But when he runs his fingers over the thin data disks, the engineering plans for the Tarkin initiative, he thinks of another life, a life where he could have used these, built them, run them. 

And when he stares at the blood as it spatters the walls in his favorite recording, he wonders what it would be like against his hands, what it would feel like to be in ultimate control, to take and give life by his words.

But he never acts.

He never goes beyond looking, for all that he rules his ship with an iron hand, inspires loyalty and terror in his crew. He never goes beyond wondering what Tarkin felt like, the first time he saw the Deathstar fire. Never goes beyond thinking about what it would be like to program an interrogation droid, to watch and then eventually help wring information from the few First Order prisoners they capture. 

That is, he never acts until he meets Ben Solo. 

He's met General Organa, of course. He's sat beside her at countless debates, endless staff meetings. He's drunk tea in her office, complained to her, stood by her, backed her up. She's a good general, ruthless when she needs to be, if not as much as he would like. And he's heard stories about her son. He's heard from her, exasperated voice and clicking tongue, heard of his struggles at the Jedi academy. 

He's heard from other officers of a reckless but effective man, a storm of death with a flashing blade, a swirl of contained energy. In lower tones, he's heard of anger. He's heard of destroyed equipment. Of shattered buildings.

Even lower whispers tell of something more.

Of blood spatters on a battlefield

Of a laughing face in the middle of a skirmish. 

Of a little too much joy in a fight. 

But he doesn't believe it. When he meets Solo, the Jedi is well mannered, considerate. Solo is a little gruff, of course, but not enough that it causes a problem. He wonders where the stories come from, wonders what has given the rumor mill enough grist that even he has heard of Solo's temper. 

Eventually he sees it, of course. The temper, that is, not the joy. It comes in the form of a destroyed bulkhead in his ship after a particularly unsuccessful raid. And he goes, voice soft and hard, and confronts Solo.

The resulting argument is enough to turn him off of the man forever. Or at least, it would be, except for what happens the week after that. 

They finally run into First Order forces on what should be a simple fact gathering mission. He's even on the ground with the troops, hoping to learn more about what direction the planetary leadership will take in the coming conflict with the First Order.

Only the conflict happens much sooner than anticipated. 

And the Solo appears. 

And there's a whirlwind of death, flashing yellow saber and dark tunic, a glow in the man's dark eyes. And he's watching as Solo cuts them a path to the shuttle, almost forgetting to fire his own blaster in the face of the whirlwind of death in front of them. And when they get on the shuttle, there's blood soaking Solo's hair, streaks across his face. 

Solo's eyes are shining. 

And he can't tear his own away, can't stop thinking of the spiral of death around that saber, the whirlwind. More importantly, he can't forget about how feral Solo really is. 

When they get back to the ship, he tries to walk away. He needs to calm down a bit.

And he thinks he's free, alone for a moment in his quarters, but then Solo is barging in, eyes still bright and fevered. And he's blustering, trying to stop the man from pushing inside. 

“I can read minds, you know.” And Bren Hux is lost. But he'll never reveal that to anyone. 

“Well, I'm an open book. Just ask your mother.” And Ben Solo laughs, loud and deep. 

“That you are. You know, I would like to see your collection some day.” And Hux doesn't flush. Because he's still looking at the blood streaking Solo's face, wondering why the man is here, why he's talking about this, of all things. And then he notices the twitch in Solo's hand, the flicker deep in his eyes, and, most of all, the bulge distorting the Jedi's tunic. 

He isn't sure who moves first. 

But suddenly there's copper in his mouth, the stench of blood in his nose. And it's the first time he's ever gotten to do this, to lick across a man's face, bite down hard enough at his lips that a warm rush fills his mouth. And it's better than he'd expected. 

He shoves Ben backwards, slams him against the wall. And Ben laughs, wild and a little crazed. But he's letting Hux scrape sharp nails down his back, dig them tight in. And Hux bites hard at his shoulder, more blood filling his mouth as he licks at the torn skin.

And then they're moving together, and Force, he wants. He wants so badly that he's dropping to his knees, fisting at Ben's pants and tearing them open, mouth watering even in through the cloying metal of blood. And it's so sweet, and there's the sharp musk of Ben's cock, and it's heavy and warm and thick. He's sucking at it, lips tight around Ben's dick, bobbing his head and palming at the scarlet spatters that have somehow appeared across Ben's taught stomach. 

Ben groans, long and loud above him, and then there's come in Hux's mouth, and he can't stand it anymore, palms a hand across his uniform where it bulges out and then he's arching into Ben, smearing blood and come across his face as he bucks into his own hand. 

From now on he acts. And wants, and has. 

And he watches his disks less. But Ben Solo has new scars. And Bren Hux knows the taste of blood and the smell of come. 

And the thrill of both on Ben's skin.

**Author's Note:**

> follow me and find this prompt on tumblr at [@saltandlimes](http://saltandlimes.tumblr.com/)


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